For Lack of a Better Title
by loonyluna9
Summary: [oneshot, preHBP, HDslash, mention of HrR] “ ‘Oh c’mon Harry, please? I’m hard as f and I know you are too. What’s more important? Eating with your Gryffindork friends, or shagging your Slytherin boyfriend ‘til neither of us can form a coherent sentence?’


**Author:** loonyluna9

**Title:** For Lack of A Better Title (yeah I know, but I seriously couldn't think of better one.)

**Pairing: **Harry/Draco, a bit of Ron/Hermione on the side

**Rating:** T (for cursing and sexual innuendo)

**Dedication: **This fic (which is my first) is dedicated to absolutely anyone and everyone who reviews. Whether you flame me (oh god, please don't; I'm fragile) or give me a nice cheery review, you have the pleasure or distaste of knowing that a fanfic was dedicated to you.

**Disclaimer: **I do not, I repeat, DO NOT own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form. The only thing that belongs to me is the plot (which I thought of on my own). So please don't sue me. The only thing I'd be able to give you that is of some sort ofvalue is my pet parakeet Joey, my CD collection, and 69 cents.

**Warnings:** This is a SLASH fanfic, meaning boy/boy pairings. If this squicks you (as many people so eloquently put it), I suggest you press the back button and read a boring het fic.

**Quick Ramble:** This is my first fic…be gentle when reviewing…I'm a sucker for constructive criticism…I wanna shag Draco Malfoy…the usual blah-stuff, ya know.

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**For Lack of a Better Title  
****By loonyluna9**

Glancing impatiently at his watch, Harry sighed at the fact that it had only ticked off two measly minutes. Each seemed like thirty and only fueled his agitation every millionth time he checked. He ran an restless hand through his thick, silky tresses, a nervous habit he had become no stranger to performing over the past three weeks. Leaning back against the door of the Potions classroom, the brunette waited in silence with the other Gryffindors and Slytherins. It would only be a matter of time before the habitually late Potions Master came charging down the hall, spitted a few insults in his usual funk, deducted unreasonable quantities of house points, and eventually let them into the classroom to begin the lesson.

Harry, though, had other things - or rather people - on his mind…_'Merlin, where the hell is he?' _he mused, growing rather disgruntled. _'It's 9:13 already. If he was any slower he'd be going backwards!'_ Yes, that was a line taken from Malfoy in the PoA book.

He looked over to his friends to strike up a conversation, to try and make an attempt to take his mind off his current state of anxiousness and faint worry. But he quickly discovered, however, that it was merely in vain. Ron was curled up snugly next to Hermione on the cold dungeon floor, a hint of a smile plastered on his face as he slowly nodded off. Hermione on the other hand was quietly reading an undoubtedly thick tome entitled - Harry squinted his eyes at the cover - _The New Witches Guide to a Successful Relationship with Her Wizard._

Harry cracked a small, knowing grin at this. _'Leave it to Hermione to refer to books on the subject of love…'  
_He was suddenly broken from his short reverie, however, by an annoying and sadistic drawl cutting through the air.

"Well if it isn't Potty and his pathetically faithful minions." Harry whipped his head around in an instant, his wide, bottle green orbs meeting with the molten silver of Draco Malfoy's. "Good day Mudblood, Weasel," he continued. The Slytherin Prince cast a particularly long and heated stare at Harry, his nose wrinkling in disgust before adding, "Scarhead."

Harry clenched his teeth, clearly attempting to bite back the scathing remark that so desperately wanted to jump off his tongue. Ron, however, saved him the trouble of contemplating whether to actually keep his mouth shut. He had since bounded up from the floor the minute he heard that distinctively familiar clicking of dragon hide boots on cobblestone approaching.

"Sod the fuck off ferret-face!" Ron growled. "It's too early for your dumb rants and raves. Leave us alone!"

By now, students were gathering around the quartet, eager to see the next violent escapade between the four most well-known pupils at Hogwarts. Somewhere near the front of the crowd, Colin Creevey was avidly taking snapshots of the forthcoming showdown.

Crabbe and Goyle, who were with Draco the whole time, began loudly cracking their knuckles, slamming fists into meaty hands. Draco simply waved them off, claiming 'he can take care of him this time'. The two great oafs gave the red-head one more wary look in warning before padding off to talk to Blaise and Theodore.

"Touched a nerve, have I Weasley?" the blonde replied airily, cleaning invisible dirt off his manicured nails. At this time he chose to look up, his patented Malfoy smirk now playing at his lips. "Or is your mind just too dense to actually come up with a witty insult to spit at me?"

"Go-away-Malfoy!" Hermione shot through gritted teeth. She had drawn herself up to her full height and was now staring Draco directly in the eye.

"And dare I ask what _you're_ going to do Miss Mudblood? Bore me to death with a study session? Throw a book at my head?"

A bitter laugh escaped Malfoy's lips as he surveyed Hermione. Her cheeks were now tinting themselves a rosy shade of pink, out of both embarrassment and anger.

"Leave." Harry said in a deathly whisper. He had decided to step in before Hermione _could_ get a chance to throw her book at Draco's over-inflated cranium. "Leave us the hell alone and go."

Draco simply raised a delicate eyebrow at Harry's statement and brushed back a few blonde locks from his face. Folding his arms defiantly, he met him squarely in the eye, the tips of their noses merely inches away.

Smirk firmly planted on his lips, Draco roguishly whispered.

"Make me."

Emerald flames were now dancing dangerously in Harry's eyes, swirling in fits of fury and protest, Draco observed. Or at least that's what a bystander would see. Through the heat and fire, behind that, he could see something else. Something that was ostensibly-

"Out of my way!" an irritated voice snapped.

The four students all simultaneously looked up to see a peeved Professor Snape shoving his way through the mass of pupils.

"I _said_ move!"  
...  
"Forty points from Gryffindor! That should teach you to move fast enough Longbottom." (Neville almost looked like he would burst into tears.)  
…  
"Miss Parkinson, I believe I said _step_ _aside_!"  
…  
"Ten points from Slytherin!"  
…  
"Mr. Creevey! Do I look like I want my picture taken! Stop clicking that blasted muggle contraption in my face!"  
…  
"I do not care to see your nude arse Mr. Zabini! Go to the Headmaster's office and forty-five points from Slytherin for that god awful sight!" (Blaise Zabini happily collected his seven galleons each from Crabbe, Goyle, and Theodore Nott before sauntering to Dumbledore's office.)  
…  
"MOVE!"

In a massive swirl of robes and bouncing greasy hair, the Potions Master made his way to the front of the crowd and his classroom door.

"Mr. Potter, I do not feel like repeating myself. Move aside before I deduct _seventy-five_ points from Gryffindor!" Knowing his housemates would be furious with him for taking them out of their first place lead for the House Cup, Harry quickly dashed out of the seething Professor's way.

"_Someone's_ got their greasy knickers twisted extra tight this morning." Ron whispered cheekily as the trio made their way to their usual seats near the back.

"I reckon someone knicked his precious teddy bear or gave him a wedgie while he was asleep…either that or he finally ate that dung and flobberworm mucus-filled chocolate frog we owled yesterday."

Harry and Ron broke out into suppressed sniggers, sniggers that almost turned into high-pitched, girly giggles. Hermione merely gave them an all too perplexed look and decided she didn't want to know.

"Today we will be working on an advanced Dreamless Sleep Draught," Snape began, agitation still woven into his every syllable. He strode purposefully towards his vial- and parchment-strewn desk, making sure to throw a few contemptuous glances at the people who had intercepted his path a few minutes ago. "The effects of the advanced version, like every potion, are only temporary. However, since this is the more complex translation of the original brew, it lasts much longer and has more severe and dangerous side effects if consumed but not made correctly."

At this point Harry had decided to tune the irate professor out. He already knew the effects, precautions, ingredients and other rubbish about the potion. Over the holiday he had taken to brewing this particular draught, trying to eliminate (or at least lessen the reoccurrence of) the haunting dreams of Sirius he would have during those hot and restless summer nights. He had concocted it so many times during the break; of course much to the disliking of his stubborn muggle relatives. It had practically become second nature to him. All Harry wanted was to sleep a peaceful and dreamless sleep, free from the nightmares, the grief, the anguish and guilt. He just wanted to get away from the fitful slumber he was so accustomed to.

All he desired was to _truly_ sleep.

"…and Potter" Snape bellowed, leering all the while.

Harry was startled by the sudden call of his name, and had snapped back to reality, eyes still slightly clouded from his concentrated contemplation of sleep. His gaze lingered on Snape, as if waiting for an explanation on why he was called upon. The professor's smirk faltered a bit as he saw no clear reaction besides confusion on Harry's face.

"What are you waiting for Mr. Potter, Christmas? Get to work!"

"Er, get to work on what…sir?" Harry asked, perceptibly bemused.

Although annoyed at Harry's lack of listening skills, Snape's twisted smirk abruptly returned with a vengeance, pleased at the sudden opportunity to take away house points.

"Daydreaming, are you Potter?" Snape mockingly clicked his tongue, his warped smile still marring his features. "Indubitably about your marvelous power and fame. How to use it to your advantage, I'm sure…" (Harry's knuckles were now turning white from gripping the edge of the table. He was _trying_ to control himself from hexing the greasy git into oblivion, he really was. But it was just so damn _hard_.)

"…Well, Gryffindor will be proud to know," he continued. "That because of your high and mighty attitude and lack of an attention span, you now have twenty less points to your house's name."

While Hermione gavehim a stern look,Harry was grateful for the sympathizing one he was greeted with from Ron, following a soft pat on the shoulder. He simply attempted to disregard the reproachful looks he was earning from his fellow housemates. Harry really had to push his fist in his mouth, though, at the not-so-subtle snickers and whispers of "Congratulations Scarhead" and "Well done Potter" he was receiving from the delighted Slytherins. All but one green and silver clad sixth-year was mocking him mercilessly however…

"Finnigan and Nott." Snape continued reading off a faded and worn roll of parchment. He had apparently been planning this a long time and seemed very pleased at the groans of exasperation the Gryffindors were emanating.

"Wait, what's he calling names off for?" Harry queried.

"We're being paired off with the Slytherins to make that stupid sleep potion." Ron supplied, disgust unmistakably staining this sentence. Ron grumbled an incomprehensible, colorful string of curses, all condemning Professor Snape to an eternity in Hell and being repetitively Crucio'd by Voldemort.

"Oh. Well who did I-"

"You got paired with Malfoy." Hermione stated in a commiserating tone before gathering her belongings to join a scowling Pansy Parkinson.

Harry slumped down to get his black messenger bag just as the ostracized Potions Master called out, rather cheerfully, "Goyle and Weasley."

Harry and Ron shared one last pitying look before walking off soundlessly to meet their fates.

Harry meandered to the center of the classroom and plopped down half-heartedly in the stool next to Malfoy, who was glaring for all he was worth. He took out his potions textbook and began perusing the information, checking the ingredients on the table with those in the book. After a few moments of skimming the text, Harry could still feel Draco's intense glower on him.

Hastily checking the room for any curious stares, he murmured out the side of his mouth, "No one's staring Draco. You can stop looking like you want to feed me to a Basilisk.

Draco began to set up the cauldron.

"It was only for good measure." he replied quietly as his wand tip erupted into flames.

Silence.

"You were really convincing this morning. I almost thought you truly hated me…Three weeks ago, you still grinned like an idiot when I called you Dumbledore's pet."

Draco made a side-long glance in the Gryffindor's direction.

"Like that." he added, smirking slightly.

Harry continued chopping his mandrake roots and fed them to the simmering cauldron, his aforementioned 'idiotic grin' still splayed across his lips.

"Well, if my memory serves me correctly, _you_ were the one 'grinning idiotically'yesterday evening after…various activities. I recall you pleading with me to skip dinner." Harry chuckled silently, an evident twinkle in his eyes and voice. " _'Oh c'mon Harry, please? I'm hard as fuck and I know you are too. What's more important? Eating with__your Gryffindork_friends_, or shagging your Slytherin_boy_friend 'til neither of us can form a coherent sentence!' _"

Draco's pale cheeks reddened considerably at Harry's imitation of his earlier plea and declaration of supreme horniness.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up."

Harry just smirked and continued smashing his Doxy eggs, ignoring Snape's suspicious glances from atop his _Daily Prophet_.

-End-

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(silence) 

-nervous cough-

(crickets)

Well…?

(more silence)

WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK OF IT! Tell me, tell me, tell me! I know you're eyeing that periwinkle 'Submit Review' button. Go on, click it! You know you want to! You know _I_ want you to!

If you have a heart, soul, conscious, or any vital organ at all for that matter, you will submit a review that either praises my fic or condemns it to a thousand years in hell! So what are you waiting for? Review your twisted, little, slash-loving heart out!


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